Home Is Where
by LilTigre
Summary: One was his past; the other, his future. But Vincent was stuck in the space between moments, trying to discover in which direction his heart truly lay. An old Christmas gift-fic for a friend.


Water trickled its way down the crystal cage, a pattering of droplets in the little pool at her feet. One by one by one they fell; one by one by one they rippled through his reflection, turning it into something unrecognizable by the light of the mako. He touched the water surface with one gloved finger. He didn't want to look at himself. Not when he was here, always switching between the people he loved, cheating on one with the other in a persistent cycle.

_You have to choose, Vincent._

_I'm sorry._

"Don't be," Vincent murmured, even though the voice that was apologizing was in his own head- and outside it, a masculine voice and a feminine one, echoing each other. The irony of it made his lips twist in a split-second scowl. The cave's light flickered for a moment and he raised his head to glance at the source of it all. Lucrecia, forever suspended in her crystalline cage, pure and white and still and always there when he needed her, just like he was, and yet....

It wasn't fair to him, was it? Vincent shifted against the uncomfortable rocks behind him. Reeve was across the continent, at Icicle Inn for the Winter Solstice; it was a reservation he'd made months in advance, a quiet escape for the two of them. And yet Vincent was here instead, in a cave with the woman he'd once loved- her trapped forever by mako and shame, and he trapped by habit and fear. A bitter laugh escaped his lips. It was a cycle that had been propagating for months now, years even, and one that he could break so very easily if he would just try.

And yet something held him back.

_It's not fair to either of us. You understand that, don't you?_

Reeve had been understanding at first, when the relationship was new and the two were still in the nebulous phase of figuring out just what it was they were developing. They both had their escape mechanisms from the world; Reeve had the Cait units and the wild roses he tended, and Vincent had Lucrecia's cave. When life began to bear down too hard, there was always those things to fall back to. A safety net, of sorts. It had worked well in the beginning stages of their relationship.

The longer they stayed around each other, though, and the closer they got, the more those escape venues changed. The roses overgrew in a tangle of thorns and silken petals; Cait Sith began making himself scarce more often. Vincent didn't feel the need to flee every time something new and unexpected leaped at him. Especially not when Reeve was there, patiently explaining and teaching and rewarding him with warm laughter and a brilliant smile. There were moments where he'd still have to escape (when Shinra Manor had been destroyed for good, Vincent had hid in Lucrecia's cave for a solid week), but each time he came back, there was someone waiting for him.

_You know I'd give anything... to make you smile._

Always when he finally came back to civilization, Reeve was there waiting. And that was part of the problem. The relationship had changed, from idle moments together to evenings napping on the couch (the first time it'd happened, Vincent had told himself firmly that he wouldn't move and disturb Reeve, that the comfortable weight and warmth of another beside him meant _nothing_, and knew he was lying). From accidental brushing of hands to stolen kisses in the dark to that first night of hesitant exploration (and he'd been welcomed in fully, scars and demons and all, welcomed in and made to feel _human_ again) and that first morning of waking up and not being alone. Not alone. It was something Vincent hadn't had in over thirty years... and it frightened him as much as it excited him.

Water dropped on his head and he shifted. The steady downpour of rain could barely be heard in the seclusion of the cave; even the roar of the waterfall was muted and dim. "Why?" he asked, the word hanging in the air. The question wasn't directed at Lucrecia so much as it was at himself. Vincent both welcomed and resisted the changing tides of time, but hadn't changed much. Reeve had; he'd grown more open and relaxed, more vibrant, and had made a special place in his life solely for Vincent. He knew it, and took solace in the knowledge, but he resisted opening himself in the same way. Still he forced Reeve to timeshare his affections with Lucrecia, running to her without thinking and expecting- knowing- that he would be there when Vincent came back. The best of both worlds, one could say... except that Reeve was slowly becoming more withdrawn and quiet, more the solitary man he was before Vincent had come along. The older man would just disappear, usually with a terse note but sometimes with no forewarning, and then reappear after he'd sated himself at Lucrecia's feet. No stability or pattern to it at all. And each time he returned Reeve would be there waiting, with a smile on his face and a hurt look in his hazel-green eyes that made Vincent flinch to look at.

_What have I done wrong? What more can I give you that you don't already have?_

It wasn't fair, he knew. It wasn't fair for him to withhold his inner self when Reeve was holding nothing back. It wasn't fair at all for him to come and go as he pleased, taking fully from both of them but never fully giving back. He was afraid to commit himself, afraid to give up either part of his life. Lucrecia was the past; Reeve, the future. And yet he was mired not in the present but in a sort of no-time, a pause between moments. What had started as peaceful moments had turned into arguments, shouting and frustration.

_I can't keep this up any longer, Vincent. I have nothing left. Everything I am, I've given you. So now... you have to choose._

And so, the present. The ultimatum had been given not eight hours before, and what had he done after the fight? Fled here, to the cave, where he could curl up in the comfortable pain of the past and hide from the unknown potential of the future. Vincent pulled the cloak up a bit tighter around his shoulders and wished in the back of his mind for firewood. The mental image of the hearth in Reeve's bedroom swam up through his memory, of logs crackling and warmth all around.

_I'm sorry._

Lucrecia's voice hovered on the air and he looked up. Her eyes were closed, the light around her steady. She was eternal, unchanging, like him-

-no. Not like him. not like him at all.

_... I'm sorry...?_

It was all she would say, all she ever said when he came here. The echo of an apology whose time had long passed, one that was no longer even needed. It... aggravated him. Vincent had forgiven her long ago; why did she still insist on apologizing? Was she really even there anymore? Her body was preserved by the unholy union of Jenova and mako, but her mind... there was no way to know. "Stop," he said, voice rusty. "Stop apologizing. Please."

_... sorry...._

Reeve hated to apologize. The last time they'd had a petty argument over something, they'd squabbled and disagreed until Reeve had, grudgingly, admitted that Vincent was right- which had then led to a round of awkward apologies that would have continued had the younger man not thrown his hands up in laughing surrender. "OK, OK!" he'd said, eyes twinkling. "We're both sorry, we both apologized... so can we quit wasting breath saying the same thing over and over? There's better things we could be doing, you know."

Later that night, with Reeve beneath him, arms wrapped around him as they came down from a shared high, Vincent had decided that the other might have been right all along.

Lucrecia fell into an almost petulant silence, as if sensing where his thoughts had turned. It hadn't been uncommon for her to do that even in life, to argue and balk and become sullen at the end. The silence was deafening, the cave cold and clammy. Briefly he wondered how Reeve was, in the cabin up north. He knew what it looked like, rustic and rough and comfortable, with the fire crackling in the hearth and the plush behemoth-fur rug spread out in front of it, and he was surprised at the wave of... something that hit him at the image. A pang of regret and longing. The desire to be there, in the warmth and comfort- or in the frigid cold, if the fires had gone out, because the quilt and down comforter was big enough to wrap two in, and with Reeve there to help keep him warm-

The pang washed over him again and Vincent sat up straight. Homesickness? Was that what it was? It was something he always felt near the end of his 'visits' with Lucrecia; the longing would hit and he would stay long enough to make his farewells before speeding back to Edge- or Junon, or wherever Reeve happened to be that this really what he was giving up the future for? He glanced about the cave as if seeing it for the first time all over again. Cold, wet walls; cold, stale air; cold ground and cold water and the glow of cold, hard crystalline mako. Even Lucrecia was cold- frozen in time, in one mode of thinking. Was this what he wanted to become, as cold and frozen in his thinking as she was now?

His mind, he realized, had been made up from the moment he entered the cavern. Rather, his heart had- his mind, his rational side, needed convincing. In his heart, he'd made the decision long ago. And now... now it was time to abide by it.

*

It was midnight when Vincent crept into the still, silent cabin. All the lights had been dimmed; the fire in the fireplace put out enough warmth and light to illuminate the room. A figure was slumped on the couch, snoring softly with a book fallen on the floor beside him. His waterlogged cape was unbuckled and slung onto the coat rack and his snow-caked boots slipped silently off before crossing the threshold and kneeling at the other man's feet; crossing his arms over the other's knees, he lay his head down and closed his eyes.

The fire had died down to a warm, slow crackle when Vincent felt gentle, calloused fingers running through his hair. He glanced up to see Reeve sitting up, half-awake and smiling as he brushed damp strands of hair out of his face. "You've chosen, then?"

"I have." Vincent reached up and interlaced his fingers with Reeve's own, resting up against him and taking comfort in his presence. The firelight set their shadows dancing along the walls, merged into one. "Sorry... it took so long."

Reeve was silent for a moment, free hand still stroking Vincent's hair; his other hand held Vincent's in a death grip, the only sign he'd outwardly show of how uncertain he'd been. "I wasn't sure if you'd come at all," he rasped. The edges of his eyes shone. "I'm glad you did."

"... I couldn't stay away," he finally said. His crimson eyes glowed in the pale light; brushing his lips over their clasped hands, Vincent glanced up at him and spoke the words he'd had but never knew how to say. "No matter where I go... I always have to come back. To you."


End file.
